Self-accountability Is Responsibility

"In those days the people ill no longer say, 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and th children's teeth are set on edge.'" Jer. 31:29.

The thing about "sour grapes" did not originate with Aesop, even though Aesop's fable is very instructive. What's interesting about Aesop's sour grapes, though, is its strong connection with the quote above. We find adults trying to make excuses for their actions in this quote. Because they are bent on evading accountability, they avoided responsibility for their actions. It is like saying, "If my father never had me, I would not have been this bad." In Aesop's fable, the fox declares the grapes sour not because they really are, but because it is not willing to admit that they are beyond its reach. These folks excused themselves; the fox excused itself. They cannot help but to be bad, they say, and the fox cannot help but to reject the grapes, it says.

Excuses, excuses, excuses! They come, and they go. Adam did it, and Eve did it, too. When confronted by Moses to explain his rationale for making the golden calf, Aaron insisted that it was the people's fault, and then it was the fault of the golden calf: The people gave him the nose rings, earrings...and he put them in the fire, and then came jumping the golden calf. "What? You must be joking, Aaron," you might dare to say. Yes, that's what happened. So, logically in Aaron's mind, goden calves come popping out of fires each time one puts nose rings and earrings, even if those people have no skill in metallurgy. Sadly, for fear of being held accountable for his actions, Aaron chose not to take responsibility for his actions like the proverbial little boy. "Oh, teacher," says the little boy, "the dog ate my homework." Or, "My mom sent me to bed early, so I did not do my homework." Aaron, the fox, and this little boy, and the excuses.

Yes, I am guilty, too. Growing up I found that it was easier to say I did this or that because so and so person did this or that, or refused to do whatever. And even as an adult, I often catch myself trying to protect my pride by evading responsibility. This is done easily when someone else is associated with the omitted or committed act. The result: I feel a stench of death in me each time that happens, and I find myself sooner rather than later coming to confront my actions.

But why it is so easy to "pass the bug?" No, I am not giving another excuse here. The fact is this: We are not willing to be held accountable. We know that taking responsibility focuses the floodlight on us, exposing more than we would like others to see. We know that our actions will be brought to account. In other words, we know that responsibility is accountability.

Thankfully, I have realized that the stench of death in my soul is often cleared away and replaced by the sweet fragrance of forgiveness and peace each time I admit my faults and accept the consequences. But more so, I sense something different: People tend to up a notch their respect for me, and I tend to feel better than how I felt before my faults.

Folks, our teeth cannot be set on edge because others have eaten sour grapes. Saying "I am sorry" and meaning it does a whole lot of good to us personally. And if for only this selfish reason, it is worth doing. But there is more to it -- it helps to infuse life and good health into the social space. Relationship depend on trust. Trust is earned when we 'fess up in a timely fashion. Responsibility is good; accountability is necessary.

A More-than-lofty Consideration

"Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked..." says the author of Psalm 1. But the Psalmist considers more: what it is to not walk in the counsel of the wicked.

Our personal worlds are often swarmed with "stinging" attractions of every sort. Within and without the ordinary and common, the pursue us. They are no strangers to notoriety or obsurity. Both the rich and poor are not outside their reach. But their sting is often subtle, and subtle in a way that only the alert can sense it.

In this state, the Psalmist's words are a fitting reminder of what is most important: a way to attain the one condition of our hearts that we are often inclined to give much or our all for. The word "blessed" is synomymous to happy. Happiness is an essential quest of the human heart. In our fast-paced journey along life's tracks and alleys, we are stung in our quest for happiness aware. It can be a morally-sensitive individual being bombarded with images beyond the pale. It may be an economically-challenged person being lured to buy a commodity beyond his or her budget. The list goes on. And at the nexus of all their lures and their impacts, the quest for happiness abounds. The Psalmist instructs, yet warns us, that to be happy, we must pepper and season our lives with a consideration that is more than lofty: the consideration to reach beyond our ordinary reaches and lay our hands and hearts on that which answers our quest.

We must forsake certain things, and we pursue certain things. We must resist certain things, and we must welcome certain things. We must use discipline -- the discipline to say "no" to some things and some people and say "yes" to some things and some people. Specifically, the Psalmist calls us to pursue God's ways. Those are the ways that lead to happiness along life's fast-paced tracks and alleys.